


First Impressions

by RadiantBeam



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: F/F, First Meetings, Warden Bethany Hawke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-09 22:17:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17413550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RadiantBeam/pseuds/RadiantBeam
Summary: Sent back to Ferelden at the request of the Warden-Commander, Bethany meets a few of her fellow Wardens along the way. And if one of them makes a bit more of an impression than the others, well, she's not thinking about that too much yet. They've only just met, after all.





	First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> Sigrun/Bethany is my Dragon Age crack ship and Moczo is a wonderful friend willing to indulge me. This was written at his request, to delve into what a possible first meeting for Sigrun and Grey Warden!Bethany would look like. 
> 
> Details on both Hawke and the Warden are kept purposely vague because I haven't actually played this world state yet, though I do have some ideas.

The scent of salt and seawater still stung Bethany’s nose even as she and the red-haired dwarf made their way into Amaranthine’s tavern—The Crown and Lion, according to the sign overhead. They were in the heart of the city now, well away from the docks, and the mage still couldn’t quite shake the hold of the ocean now that she was off the ship.

Kirkwall had been much the same way, that first year. Bethany hadn’t set foot on another ship until Stroud had reassigned her to the Ferelden Wardens, but the ocean had sunk into her bones. Constant, regular visits to the docks for any jobs she and her sibling could scrape together certainly hadn’t helped the impression. If nothing else, she hoped something warm to eat could ease the feeling for a time.

It seemed she would be denied even that, though, as the moment she and her traveling companion sat down at an open table—Oghren, that was his name, and she would do well to remember it for the time being, considering he’d also been her _only_ companion thus far on their journey—a young boy seemed to materialize out of thin air, nearly making her jump out of her skin. To his credit, the dwarf didn’t even bat an eyelash as a crumbled note was pressed into his hand; he simply smoothed it against the table and read whatever was written there silently.

Well. If he wasn’t going to immediately share, Bethany was going to take advantage of what little peace they had and at least _start_ to eat so she wouldn’t be moving on a completely empty stomach.

Finally, Oghren grunted and pressed a few silvers into the boy’s hand, murmuring something to him about finding a decent place to sleep and a good meal. Bethany waited until they were alone—glancing around quietly to make doubly sure, just in case someone decided to make their presence known again—before she spoke. “Should I be worried?” she asked, keeping her tone light.

“You ever fight darkspawn on the surface?”

That made her frown. “No. All of my fighting was in the Deep Roads.”

“Good, this’ll be a learnin’ experience then.” He pushed his chair back, getting to his feet. “Come on, we gotta go now if we wanna make it before they get overrun.”

“They?” She followed him up out of habit, only leaving payment for her unfinished meal as an afterthought; quite suddenly, at the thought of darkspawn, she was no longer hungry. “They who?”

“A patrol we’ve got in the Wending Wood. Looks like they were scoutin’ for some darkspawn activity in the area, and they may have found it.” Oghren stroked his beard, glancing around once they were outside, before heading for the stables. “We’re gonna go catch up and see if we can help ‘em out, eradicate the problem so the guild here doesn’t complain.”

Bethany thought of Vigil’s Keep, and a Warden-Commander that had requested her transfer to Ferelden but had not yet met her.

What she said was “I’ve never fought darkspawn on the surface before.”

Oghren tossed back his head and laughed, loud and clear. “You’ll be fine,” he said. “Just don’t take a good look am ‘em, they’re even uglier in the sunlight than they are underground.”

Somehow, that wasn’t terribly comforting.

* * *

Back in Kirkwall, Varric had taken to calling her Sunshine. It had upgraded briefly to Milady Sunshine for a time, but the general gist of the nickname had always stuck; Bethany was considered as warm and as welcoming as the rays of the sun. It had always been something of a funny nickname to her, considering that she had never had much of a preference for the sun—no, if any of her siblings had been comfortable in the sun it was Carver, always out in the fields practicing his sword work and coming back home sweaty and burned from the heat. Bethany had always been perfectly fine staying indoors or somewhere in the shade, thank you very much.

Still, she’d never disagreed with Varric’s _sentiment—_ sunshine was warm and gentle (most of the time; the heat waves in Kirkwall had been monstrous, that first year of adjusting), and something about it had a way of bringing out the best in everyone and everything.

Darkspawn, it seemed, were the exception.

Bethany sensed the darkspawn before she saw them, though her ability at times still seemed weak compared to her senior Wardens. It was much easier to follow Oghren’s lead; the dwarf swore and swung off his horse, gripping the hilt of his ax. “Bloody _nug humpers_ ,” he growled. “Ya comfortable in a fight, mage? I’m sensin’ a lot of ‘em.”

That was better than her—all she could tell was that they were there, generally. “I can handle myself in a fight, ser.”

Oghren laughed as he charged forward, something deep and rough. “Jus’ stay back and keep yer eyes peeled. Fightin’ darkspawn on the surface ain’t like fightin’ ‘em in the Deep Roads.”

“Is that an order?”

“Nah, would just be a shame ta lose ya after gettin’ your arse this far. Commander would have my head.” He tossed a grin at her over his shoulder. “And I’d hate losin’ such a fine arse.”

_Charming_ , Bethany thought, and gripped her staff tightly in her hand as she followed after the dwarf. Times like these, she missed when she used to have the option to run _away_ from darkspawn.

They crested the hill, and that was when the dark-haired mage realized that Oghren hadn’t lied to her about one thing, at least: darkspawn truly _did_ look worse under the light of the sun. The rays threw their deformed, twisted features into sheer contrast against the natural beauty of the wilds, and the breeze _carried_ the scent of them. It took all of her self-control to not immediately gag. She’d become so _proud_ of her ability to show no reaction to the scent of darkspawn recently, too.

She couldn’t get a good look at the battle itself, with how thorough the chaos was. She saw dark shapes bursting from the ground and racing from the trees, she could smell the blood and smoke, and the caravans had drawn themselves into a tight circle for defense as the Wardens fought. Someone was shouting orders, but they had clearly been doing this for awhile—their voice sounded hoarse.

Oghren let out a roar beside her, a mighty battle cry that drew the eye of every darkspawn in the area. It was the distraction the Wardens needed to catch their breath, and as he hefted his ax high and charged into the thick of it, Bethany followed in his footsteps with ice already chilling her fingertips.

The bad news—if it could be considered bad, because by now Bethany had been forced to accept that it was really just a way of Warden life—was that there were a lot of darkspawn. Apparently being on the surface didn’t change that nearly as much as she would have liked. The good news was, while the distraction from their arrival had certainly _helped_ in changing how the battle was flowing, it hadn’t been the deciding factor: the battle had been ongoing for awhile, but it had slowly and surely shifted in favor of the Wardens. Bethany and Oghren’s arrival just created an opening for the required death blow to end it.

It made the fighting short at least, for as briefly intense as it was. If nothing else, the mage was grateful for that; she was confident in her own abilities, but she could also admit when she wasn’t entirely at her best. And not being at her best was a dangerous state, as both an apostate and a Grey Warden.

“Well I’ll be,” Oghren huffed as Bethany absently blew smoke from her fingertips, turning his gaze from the strewn bodies of the darkspawn to look her over. “Ye know yer fightin’. They train mages well in the Free Marches, I’ll give ‘em that much.”

She snorted. “I didn’t learn this in the Free Marches.” She paused. “… I didn’t learn _all_ of this in the Free Marches,” she amended. “Only some of it.”

That got an eye roll from the dwarf, as he set his ax back in place. “No idea why you mages can’t ever just give a straight answer,” he muttered. “But good to see ya in action, finally. Figured you were skilled if the Commander was askin’ after ya, but always nice to have it confirmed.”

So the Warden-Commander of Ferelden had asked for her personally. Bethany hadn’t even met them yet, and she was already more intrigued than she would ever care to admit.

“Anyway, come on. Let’s go see how the others are holdin’ up now that we got to be big damn heroes and save their arses.”

Sitting down and taking a short break to catch her breath would have been nice, but the dark-haired mage simply set her staff comfortably between her shoulders and tried to straighten her spine as much as she could. Wardens weren’t a judgmental lot by nature, usually—it was hard to really judge anyone in their ranks, considering they recruited just about anyone who could fight well and could survive the Joining-- but Leandra’s teachings still ran bone deep, after so much time away from her. You only got one first impression, and a mage who was outside of the Circle and wasn’t recognized as a Warden was easy prey for the Templars. Bethany may not have entirely enjoyed what her life had become since surviving her Joining, but she didn’t relish the thought of going back to her previous existence as an apostate.

Being an apostate _with_ the Taint just seemed like insult to injury, really.

So Bethany gathered what little energy she still had in reserve, took the smallest moment to inhale deeply, and followed Oghren to meet the Grey Wardens of Ferelden. It didn’t take nearly as long as she would have liked; they were only separated by a few steps, at best.

“Nathaniel, ya blighter!” the red-haired dwarf boomed. “Tryin’ to get yourself killed right when I was comin’ back with a new Warden?”

A pale, black-haired human man dropped easily from an overturned wagon he’d been standing on, laughing as he set his bow down against it. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Oghren! You know I just have a flair for dramatic timing.” His voice was hoarse and cracked over a few words; he must have been the one Bethany had heard shouting orders and encouragement to the others during the battle.

“Well, girls do love a good near death story.” It was a rough chuckle before the two men finally met, gripping hands tightly like long lost friends. “Good ta see ya in one piece. What’d you think of the mage?”

“I have a name, you know.” Bethany resisted the urge to cross her arms over her chest, but only just. The words had already slipped out because of her exhaustion; she didn’t need to add to it when her annoyance was clear.

Oghren apparently found this funny, as he threw back his head and laughed as he stepped aside. “And she’s got some fire! I _like_ you!”

“Enough, Oghren. We’ve all had a long day.” The scolding was softened by the hint of amusement in the man’s tone, before he turned his attention to Bethany. “Welcome to Ferelden, sister. I hope the journey wasn’t too long and the dwarf was a gentleman.” He offered his hand in greeting, and she took it, gripped it; his hold was firm and steady. A good trait for an archer. “I’m Nathaniel Howe. I was on my way with the others to escort you and Oghren back to the Keep, but the darkspawn had other plans.”

She smiled, though it didn’t quite meet her eyes. “Welcome back to Ferelden, actually,” she said. “I lived here until the Blight came to Lothering. Bethany Hawke, a pleasure to meet you.”

“A wise woman to avoid both my unspoken questions,” Nathaniel murmured, and Bethany hummed in agreement as she released her grip on his hand and took a small step back. “Regardless, welcome back to Ferelden in that case. I hope it lives up to how you remember it.”

“We shall see, ser.” She scanned the wagons and the people contained in the makeshift circle; a mix of humans and elves, with a dwarf or two from what she could immediately spot. “Is it custom among the Ferelden Wardens to greet one of your own with a full caravan of merchants?”

She kept her tone light and breezy, and it got the desired reaction; Nathaniel didn’t quite laugh, he didn’t seem the sort, but his chuckle was warm. “This is what I get for multitasking,” he said, turning away to pick up his bow. “I thought to scout the mines to be safe, as we’d had some rumbling underfoot lately. The guild requested we escort some of their people through the Wood, intending to stop in Amaranthine. I thought it would be easier to handle both tasks at once.”

“Everyone survived,” Bethany pointed out. “A better outcome than most would get, I expect.”

“True enough. We took some damage, but nothing that should slow us down. And with the darkspawn threat handled, the way should be clear from here.”

“We took some damage, but there are still wounded.” That wasn’t Nathaniel’s voice, and it made Bethany jolt; it was distinctly female, and she was stunned as the dark-skinned elf seemed to materialize beside the archer. She hadn’t even heard her move. “You there. Bethany Hawke, you said?”

“Ah...” She licked her lips as she took the woman in, trying her best to not stare. Dark skin, blonde hair and sharp green eyes, and those markings along her face—Dalish, then. Dalish, and with a staff at her back. A former First then perhaps, like Merrill? Curious. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Velanna. You’re a mage? I saw your spells and your staff.”

“Yes, ma’--yes, Velanna.”

“Have you any experience with creation spells?”

“I’m not a spirit healer by specialization.” Technically she didn’t _have_ a specialization yet, but no need to mention that. “But I know some basic healing spells.”

“Excellent, then you’ll be of some use. Some of the merchants were wounded in the fight. Nothing serious, but a little healing magic won’t hurt.” Her gaze shifted to Nathaniel, a mixture of amusement and worry surfacing in her eyes. “And I haven’t seen her yet, but I’m sure Sigrun is going to try and wave off any injuries she sustained against the darkspawn.”

Nathaniel frowned, concerned. “Was she badly wounded?”

Velanna lifted a golden eyebrow and gave the archer a long, silent look.

“… Right, you haven’t seen her,” he sighed. “And I suppose it’d be too much to hope you managed to get a good glimpse of her during all of the fighting.”

“I was too busy actually fighting.”

“Of course, milady.” Velanna snorted as Nathaniel turned his attention back to Bethany. “Sigrun is one of ours,” he said. “You can’t miss her, she’s a Legion of the Dead dwarf. She wouldn’t be too far from this area.”

Bethany blinked. “I wasn’t aware that a member of the Legion could become a Grey Warden.”

Nathaniel shrugged. “Neither was I, but I was there when she was recruited. Do a quick sweep through the merchants, then check on Sigrun. I’m sure she’ll have been hit harder than any of them were.”

Oghren grinned. “Wanna bet on that?”

Nathaniel grinned back. “You know I don’t take a bet I know I’ll lose, Oghren.”

“Ya sure about that? A visit from _me_ will probably get Sigrun to cheer _right_ up--”

“I’ll go check on the merchants and look for her,” Bethany said hastily, taking that as her cue to step away from the group and head into the circle of wagons. She saw the way Velanna’s eyes had started to narrow the moment Oghren began talking, and she didn’t want to be around to see what came next.

Cowardly? Maybe a little. But at least she knew and was willing to admit it to herself. There were just some fights she didn’t want to be involved in, and she was hardly unbiased—she’d been traveling with Oghren. She didn’t blame Velanna and her narrowing eyes one _bit_.

As Nathaniel had predicted, her sweep through the merchants was short. There were a few injuries, and they had certainly fought bravely despite the odds; more than a few of them were either already armed or had grabbed some impromptu weapon in order to aid the Grey Wardens, but they had also been sheltered in the middle and kept from the absolute worst of the fighting. There were a few noticeable bruises and cuts and one _very_ memorable bite in a delicate area, but for the most part the merchants had made it through the encounter relatively unscathed and singing praises to their Warden protectors.

More importantly, no one had consumed darkspawn blood and none of them seemed to be carrying the Taint. They would still need to be watched on the way to Amaranthine, but the early signs started early—if anyone _had_ gotten it, they would know before they got to the city gates. But so far, they seemed to have been spared that. Bethany was grateful; she still remembered how Aveline’s husband had died. She wouldn’t wish that fate on anyone, not even a Templar.

That done, the next step was to find Sigrun. The finding part was, again, relatively easy; while Nathaniel had been fighting from inside the circle of wagons and Velanna had apparently been perched on higher ground picking off darkspawn as they exploded from the ground and burst from the trees, Sigrun had kept the rushing horde at bay and had managed to cut a path through them to keep them from ambushing the rear. All Bethany needed to do was follow the trail littered with dead darkspawn.

She didn’t have to go very far, either. In the end, Sigrun had chosen to stick close to the wagons, had gone through the back and eventually cut a circle around the wagons to pick off any attackers that Velanna and Nathaniel had missed from their air attacks. It was surprisingly efficient, and Bethany could even note the point where she and Oghren had punched their way through in their surprise attack to finally beat the beasts off. The circle tapered off though near a small grove of trees, and as the mage approached those trees she saw a small, armored body crumbled back against a trunk.

Her insides froze over for a single horrific instant as her heart dropped into her stomach; exhaling on a soft curse Bethany rushed towards the fallen Warden, already bracing herself for the moment she felt for a pulse and felt only stillness, for the moment she strained to hear breathing and was met with nothing but silence. It had happened to her countless times before, and the Maker was certainly cruel enough to do it again to someone she hadn’t even met yet.

Thankfully, it seemed that today the Maker was in a good mood, or at least in a better mood than he usually was; as Bethany finally closed the distance between them and knelt down the dwarf sucked in a deep breath, eyes snapping open as she realized someone was approaching her. Cloudy blue grey eyes met startled golden brown, and the next thing the mage knew the dwarf was suddenly straightening up much more quickly and fumbling for her daggers as her breathing hitched.

“Wait!”

It wasn’t her smartest moment in hindsight, but Bethany had never claimed to be particularly intelligent; her hands shot out and grabbed Sigrun’s wrists. “Wait,” she repeated, a little more panicky than she would have cared to admit. “Don’t—don’t stab me, please. I’m here to help you, I promise. I’m not a darkspawn. I’m a Grey Warden.”

Sigrun sucked in a few more heaving breaths as she processed Bethany’s words, her eyes darting all over her face, before she finally blew another breath out and sagged back against the tree, relaxing. “Ancestors,” she wheezed. “I’m sorry. I thought I’d left one alive.”

“No. No, I can assure you, all of the darkspawn you fought are very dead.” Bethany cautiously released Sigrun’s wrists. “I’m sorry if I startled you, I—I thought you were seriously injured.” Or dead. She left that part unspoken.

The Legionnaire laughed, closing her eyes, catching it regardless. “No, somehow I seem to keep surviving. I’m not terribly good at being in the Legion, I think. I _really_ thought I’d made peace with my eventual death, but I always surprise myself.”

“… You’re a _strange_ dwarf.”

One eye cracked open as Sigrun’s lips curled in a small smile. “Yet you don’t seem terribly surprised.”

Bethany shrugged. “I knew a strange dwarf in Kirkwall. Now that we’ve gotten past you trying to stab me because you thought I was a darkspawn--”

“Sorry. Again.”

“Considering how you were attacked, I hardly blame you. Your fellow Warden mentioned you were hurt? The Dalish, Velanna.”

Sigrun opened both eyes now, that smile becoming a grin. “You met her? Explains why she’s got you running around doing the healing. She never took to creation spells.”

“I know the basic healing spells.” Bethany paused, looking Sigrun over. “I believe her exact words were ‘I know she’s going to try and wave off any injuries she sustained’.”

That made Sigrun laugh again, something deeper this time; it also cut off abruptly and she grimaced, leaning back against the tree as she pressed a hand over her ribs. “Well,” she managed. “The short answer is everything hurts. If you want me to be more specific, you could start with my ribs. I can’t tell if they’re cracked or broken, but they hurt.” She paused, contemplating something, then huffed in amusement. “Damn, it’s always my ribs.”

Bethany blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Ask me how I joined the Wardens when we get back to the Keep, it’s a story. And it involves ribs. And… you need me to move my hand, right.” The dwarf rested her hand in the grass, absently tugging at green strands. “Sorry. Post battle jitters, I think. We haven’t been ambushed like that in awhile.”

It seemed to be more than just post battle jitters, but Bethany knew it wasn’t her place to ask when they had just met. Instead she murmured her thanks and cautiously pressed her hand where Sigrun’s had been. She didn’t want to prod too deeply unless Sigrun’s ribs were broken instead of cracked—that would have been an entirely different beast—but the dwarf had accurately pinpointed the major source of pain. The mage listened, caught her sharp, shaky inhale, and nodded to herself.

“Sorry,” she murmured. “Had to be sure before I started. Hold still.”

Healing didn’t come as naturally to her as it came to Anders, as it had come to her father before he had succumbed to an illness from one of his own patients. If Malcolm Hawke had been a healer with his magic, Bethany had been a fighter. It had taken more time and patience than she would ever admit to even learn basic healing spells, and she’d only learned them at all out of necessity during that first year in Kirkwall; they hadn’t always had injury kits or health potions on hand, and they hadn’t had access to Anders or his clinic. As a result, she always preferred to be safe instead of sorry. Her healing was already limited because she wasn’t a spirit healer; she didn’t want to make it worse by failing to pinpoint the area that needed treatment the most.

If nothing else, Sigrun was an excellent patient; she held still as Bethany asked, closing her eyes as the mage urged healing magic into her hand and eased it into the injury. It felt strange, she knew that—she had healed herself enough to be aware that being healed by regular healing spells differed from being healed by a spirit healer, and her sibling had jokingly complained about it enough to reinforce what she already thought, especially after they met Anders. Regardless, Sigrun stayed still and silent, and Bethany blew out a quiet breath she hadn’t realized she was holding when the healing ended.

“You should be okay now there,” she said. “At least until we get back to the Keep. Does anything else hurt?”

Sigrun frowned and opened her eyes, absently rolling her shoulders and running her hands over herself in a quick check. “Still a little sore,” she admitted after a moment. “But I don’t think that’s anything you can really heal. I just need some time.”

Bethany smiled. “I could try, if you want. I healed the scratches and bruises on the merchants.”

“Nah, we can stop here.” Sigrun chuckled. “I know how mages get when they start running low on mana, and you’ve helped us out enough as it is. I’ve got thicker skin than a merchant, I’ll manage. Thanks for the offer, ah...”

There was a pause, as their eyes once again met. It took a moment for it to sink in, and when she realized it Bethany was the one who laughed. In her rush to calm Sigrun down and then focus on healing her, the two of them hadn’t had a moment to properly introduce themselves. It hadn’t seemed terribly important at the time, but now…

“Bethany,” she said, swallowing back another giggle as she offered her hand. “Bethany Hawke. I’m the Warden the Commander requested from the Free Marches.”

Sigrun’s eyes lit up, and she smiled as she took Bethany’s hand and squeezed. “A mage, huh? Perfect, we’ve been needing another one. Velanna does good work, but she’s, ah… well. She’s very _good_ at fighting.”

“That’s very diplomatic of you, considering I’m _also_ very good at fighting.”

“You’re also good at other things! Velanna is… not. Which is okay! Her magic is still good for dealing with darkspawn. She’s a _great_ mage. She burns things really well.” There was a moment as Sigrun turned some thoughts over in her head. “Please don’t tell her we’re having this conversation right now.”

Bethany slashed a familiar x over her heart with a little grin, and Sigrun laughed. “Oh, I like you,” she said. “My name’s Sigrun, though I’m guessing you already knew that since you came all the way over here looking for me. Not much of a way to introduce myself.”

“It still counts, I think. I only got your name, Velanna didn’t introduce us.” Bethany paused. “Nathaniel also told me you were in the Legion of the Dead.”

“Am! _Am_ in the Legion of the Dead. I didn’t stop being a Legionnaire just because I got recruited into the Wardens. Which, between you and me, I did _not_ expect to last this long.” She hummed, something low and deep in the back of her throat. “Though if you know that and you know my name, then you know the most interesting things about me.”

They were still holding hands—in the resulting conversation they had simply forgotten to let go of each other—and Bethany took advantage of this fact now as she got to her feet, gently tugging Sigrun up along with her. It was easy enough for her to manage, even as a mage; the size difference between humans and dwarves compensated for the strength discrepancy, and Sigrun made the process smooth once she realized what Bethany was doing.

It also brought them a few inches closer than Bethany was expecting, with very little space between their bodies; a fact that she _knew_ Sigrun immediately noticed judging by the amused chuckle and the gleam in her eyes as she let go of the youngest Hawke’s hand. “Hello,” she rumbled.

Bethany blew out a breath and smiled, tucking her now free hand behind her back. “Hi,” she said.

“Sorry about that.” Sigrun took a small step back, opening some space between them. “Thanks for the help. I could have gotten up on my own, but… it would have taken awhile.”

“If you’re still hurting anywhere...”

“I’m fine! I’m fine. I’ll make it back to the Keep. I’d never hear the end of it otherwise. Now come on, the others are probably thinking we already started back without them.”

“Well, that would be impossible,” Bethany said as they started the trek back to the caravans. “I have no idea where I’m going.”

Sigrun laughed. “Good point.”

They were only a short distance away from the caravans—the others had already seen them and both Nathaniel and Oghren had waved, prompting, respectively, a returning wave and an eye roll—when Bethany cleared her throat. “By the way,” she said, “You’re wrong.”

Sigrun blinked up at her owlishly. “Excuse me?”

“I don’t know _everything_ interesting about you yet.” She smiled, and it was warm and just a touched mischievous. “You still haven’t told me how you joined the Wardens. You said it was a story.”

It took a moment for the dwarf to process that, and when she did she laughed again; startled, but genuinely amused. “I like you a _lot_ ,” she decided. “Sure, why not. I’ll tell you. We still have a trip back to the Keep yet. It’ll be a good way to kill time.”

And if telling that story made time fly by just a little bit faster for both of them, well—neither of them said anything about it at the time.


End file.
